“The feeling is mutual."
“Right. So, a relationship would never work between us, assuming either of us even wanted one, but fooling around I’m fine with. Does that work for you? I don't need you to beat around the bush, either. I'm not a kid whose feelings you're going to hurt with a rejection.” The silence stretches between us. "It's a yes or no question," I tell him, my patience growing thin.
He releases a breath, and without answering, he pulls me into his chest and slams his mouth down on mine. His kiss is all-consuming, leaving my head spinning and my heart racing out of my chest.
A needy moan slips past my lips when he finally pulls away. Dark brown eyes meet my own, and in them I see my own desire reflected back to me. “This works for me,” he says. Then he hesitates and asks, “When is your birthday? I know it’s coming up, but I don’t know the date.”
“It was yesterday.”
He pulls back, eyes wide. “You turned eighteen yesterday?” I nod. “And no one said shit? No one remembered, not even your brother?”
I shrug. “Shit happened. It’s bad timing,” I give him a considering look. “Or good, depending on how you look at it.”
He smirks. “Yeah, I see what you’re saying.” He grabs his gym bag and heads for the door, pausing at the threshold to give me a backward glance. “Game’s at eleven. I have to get to the field early and warm up.” I nod, my lips pressing together. “Show up. I don’t want you sitting here alone. You can call one of the girls for a ride if you don’t want to drive yourself.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, and his eyes darken.
“I’ll see you there. Eleven. And if you wear my number, I’ll think about giving you a belated birthday gift.” He gives me a heated look, and before I can respond, he’s gone.
What the hell did I just get myself into?
We’re just getting started with Dominique and Kasey. Their story continues in Cruel Promise. Be sure to order your copy today!
And if you’re curious about some of the other characters mentioned in these books, check out The Savage. Book 1 is Gabriel’s story (Allie’s friend from Richland in Wicked Devil).
Mischief Managed
Mischief Managed is a short story previously featured in the
Hallowed Nights Anthology(no longer in publication)
ONE HUNDRED ONE
Kasey
God, yes. Right there. I’m so freaking close and god do I need an orgasm right now. I’m sure everyone could use the big O bright and early each morning, but I really, really need it. Today more so than most because I am an idiot. I deleted my voicemail inbox. Just wiped the entire stupid thing clean without even registering what I was doing.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes as I think about Mom’s last message. Her voice. The fact that I’ll never hear it again. It was such a dumb mistake and I hate myself for not paying better attention. For letting my grief and sleep deprivation get the better of me because now I’ll never have that message back. I tried. For over an hour, I fought with my stupid phone. I Googled all the ideas. None of it worked.
I blink hard, determined to clear my vision. I’m having sex for chrissakes. Now is not the time to fall apart.
Come on, Kasey. Focus on Dominique. That’s why I came over here in the first place. The grief crept in and I needed a dose of dopamine to chase my blues away.
I have a problem. One I am very well aware of and have absolutely zero intention of correcting. At least, not anytime soon. Because it works. It’s the only thing that’s worked and trust me, I’ve tried all the things. Drinking away my sorrows—which is more difficult than it should be as an eighteen-year-old college student.
Getting in fights. That one went well. I almost got kicked out of my sorority house, earned myself a black eye, and had not one, but two, hour long lectures, between Dominique and my brother, about how reckless and immature I’d been and how disappointed they were in me. I shouldn’t care what they think of me, but pulling the disappointed card fucking hurt.
After that I tried a little weed, but that didn’t work out too well, either. I learned, though, that weed is not for me. I think it was mixed with something, or maybe it was a weird strain. I’m not sure. But I hallucinated some shit and wound up even more messed up than I was before.
My bad.
Quinn my Big at Kappa Mu said I kept calling out for my dead mother. So yeah, I won’t be trying that again.
But this… sex? It works.
Every time I get in my head, or the grief creeps a little too close, I chase this right here. This feeling of being owned. Claimed. Of his skin on mine and pleasure coursing through my veins. It’s the best high out there.
My heart races, my throat already hoarse from moaning and crying out Dominique’s name. I showed up on his doorstep fifteen minutes ago having rolled out of bed, looking like hell with messy hair and red-rimmed eyes and Dominique took one look at me, ushered me inside, and the next thing I knew he had me bent me over the dining table and was fucking me from behind, chasing all of my pain away.
